


Facial Recognition

by MalcolmInSpace



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: At least call the cops or something, Bounty Hunters, Get it together Obi-Wan, I mean who just leaves a body lying the street, Jedi are kinda jerks, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:58:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/pseuds/MalcolmInSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for Zam Wesell to find a new life and a new face, but can she get away as clean as she hopes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facial Recognition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melody_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_Jade/gifts).



That, Zam Wesell decided, had not been a good day. She had botched a job, run afoul of two Jedi, gotten caught, and then just to top it off had been shot by her own mentor. In fact she was pretty sure it was the worst day. And as if all that hadn’t been bad enough, the Jedi had just left her body in that alley like an empty food container. She was pretty sure they hadn’t even reported the incident to the authorities because apparently when you’re a Jedi corpses in the street are just someone else’s problem. It would be insulting if it wasn’t so convenient.

Outside the ship, Coruscant’s atmosphere thinned from deep blue to deepest black and she tried to relax in her seat. It didn’t even occur to her to be mad at Jango. She’d gotten caught and they both knew she would have talked to get out of it. That’s what you did. But Jango couldn’t let that happen. He’d told her he would at the start of every job. “Good luck, Zam,” he’d say, “I shall probably kill if you get caught.” He’d even taught her about the various darts and toxins he used for such tasks, and she’d taken to quietly dosing herself with antidotes before every job. She wondered, and not for the first time, if that hadn’t been exactly the point. There were depths to Jango Fett that often went unsounded. Mandalorians were a complicated bunch.

Her comm pinged as Coruscant Orbital Control gave her clearance to go to full sublight and proceed to a safe distance for her jump to hyperspace, and she thanked control politely. Not as Zam Wesell, of course. Zam Wesell had died in an alleyway and even if a body vanishing wasn’t the most uncommon thing she didn’t want to leave a curious Jedi or Republic Security officer any more of a trail than she could. So she’d abandoned her ship after remotely wiping its main computer and had assumed one of her backup identities, a rather handsome Duros named Joso Tune. The real Joso Tune had died a lonely and unlamented death on some Outer Rim rock after trying to cheat Zam one too many times. So now she wore his face and flew his very fast ship and no one was the wiser.

She switched the controls to manual and opened the throttle. She burned past all the flocking ships crowding Coruscant’s orbit. There were zippy little rich-kid ships playing tag around a trio of bloated old bulk carriers, glittery passenger liners, a long line of yachts all trying to get through, and, past them all, a pair of brand new Republic cruisers loitering in high orbit. Her flight path would take her through their engagement envelope, but she wasn’t worried. Even if they were somehow watching for Zam Wesell, Zam Wesell was dead and she was Joso Tune and the Republic had no reason to be suspicious of Joso Tune.

Her navicomputer beeped to inform her that the jump to hyperspace was plotted. She reached forward, flipped a switched, and watched the stars elongate into streaks and then become the swirling, hypnotic tunnel of hyperspace. She sighed, leaned back, and released Joso’s face. Holding a shape she wasn’t practiced with was like holding a muscle strained. She could bear it, but it was wearisome. The human face she presented as Zam Wesell was as comfortable as an old jacket, but she wouldn’t be wearing it for a while.

How long a while was something she still had to determine.

Jango, she believed, would probably not be too bothered to find out she was alive. Resurrection stunts were practically routine for bounty hunters, and talking when you got caught – especially if you were caught by Jedi – was similarly standard practice. You always took the opportunity to off a Jedi if you had one, of course. But Jango’s mysterious masters were a different story. She’d seen enough to figure Jango was working for the real powers behind the Seperatist movement and she knew they hated few

things as much as a loose end. Jango might not be sad she was alive, but neither would he be so to kill her if, or rather when, he was asked tp.

So, then, where to go? She needed somewhere she could hide, blend in with local underworld. Hardly a challenge for a shapeshifter, but it was always better to let your surroundings do the camouflaging for you. Somewhere Republic Security wouldn’t be nosing around. Hutt space was the obvious candidate, and she was sure enough about at least a few of her backup identities that she could hide and wait for the heat on Zam Wesell’s name to die down. Plus, the Hutts weren’t exactly friendly to Jedi and it wouldn’t be hard to find work. And as a bonus, her favourite restaurant was on Nar Shadaa. She started punching up a course over to Hutt space, sufficiently roundabout, when the ship’s comm pinged.

She froze, staring at the blinking light in disbelief. That simply wasn’t possible. No one had this HoloNet code. She’d taken very great care to scrub this ship clean after taking it from Joso Tune.

By instinct she shifted into her human face, then with an effort into Joso Tune. She reached out with a trembling hand, took a breath to steady herself, and pressed the button.

The helmet head of Jango Fett appeared, and it was all she could do not to fall out of her chair.

“Hello, Joso,” Jango said, his tone as unreadable as his helmet. “Long time no see.” Zam’s heart raced. Could Jango truly know Joso? “Good to see you’re keeping in shape,” he said, and Zam knew, she _knew_ , that Jango was fully aware it was her.

She clamped down on herself, and ground out in a gravelly Duros baritone, “Hello, Fett. Must say I’m surprised to be hearing from you so soon.”

“You know me, Joso,” Jango responded, “I always keep an eye out for my friends. Still, just wanted to check in. I’ll let you go for now, but I might have to catch up with you later.”

So that was how it was. Zam felt herself begin to calm. He was giving her a chance to run before he had to come after her, and he was doing it without giving her away. “Maybe, Jango, but I’ve got business coming that’ll keep me busy. You might have to wait awhile for that reunion.”

“Fair enough, Joso. See you when I see you.”

“Good bye, Jango.”

The helmeted head nodded once, and then the connection was severed. Zam slumped in her chair, Joso Tune melting away. She couldn’t go to Nar Shadaa. She couldn’t go to Tattooine or any of the other normal gutter systems. If Jango knew about this cover, he knew about them all. She needed somewhere new, somewhere fresh.

What about the Corporate Sector? The Authority was no friend to the Republic or the Seperatists, and they brooked no interference from Jedi. Plus, she’d heard there was good coin to be made as a hired gun out there. She began to warm to the idea, the fear melting away. She could practice her quick-draw, find a new face. Maybe with a fancy moustache. She’d always wondered what it would be like to have a proper twirling moustache. What about a name? Something dramatic. Gallant? Eh, she could work on that. She had plenty of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, they just leave her there! It's a street corner, not a battlefield, guys! Clean up your own damn corpses for once.
> 
> I figure if Boba Fett and Maul can survive their own little Jedi-related deaths, Zam should, too.


End file.
